Mad As Hell - Part 1
by Lancer1968
Summary: Dream or Nightmare? Mood setter for the spooky month of October.


Mad As Hell – Part 1

Summary: Dream or Nightmare?

Usual Disclaimers Apply

(Ghost) Riders in the Sky by Stan Jones

An old cowboy went riding out one dark and windy day  
Upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way  
When all at once a mighty herd of red eyed cows he saw  
A-plowing through the ragged sky and up the cloudy draw

Their brands were still on fire and their hooves were made of steel  
Their horns were black and shiny and their hot breath he could feel  
A bolt of fear went through him as they thundered through the sky  
For he saw the riders coming hard and he heard their mournful cry

Yippie yi ooh  
Yippie yi yay  
Ghost riders in the sky

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, their shirts all soaked with sweat  
He's riding hard to catch that herd, but he ain't caught 'em yet  
'Cause they've got to ride forever on that range up in the sky  
On horses snorting fire  
As they ride on hear their cry

As the riders loped on by him he heard one call his name  
If you want to save your soul from hell a-riding on our range  
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride  
Trying to catch the devil's herd, across these endless skies

Yippie yi ooh  
Yippie yi yay

Ghost riders in the sky  
Ghost riders in the sky  
Ghost Riders in the sky 

# # #

Johnny was grubby, his clothes were torn and tattered, and his customary hat was not perched on top of his head; mud, blood and beer stains clung to his once fresh, crispy laundered blue-flowered shirt. He furiously unbuckled his gun belt, flinging it towards the corner by the hat rack. A clatter of metallic clangs vibrated as his pistol, his prized possession, and the tool of his former trade hit the floor to slide across the adobe tiles, coming to a rest against the opposite wall.

A strident, primal screech escaped from Johnny's lips, followed by, "I hope you're satisfied now Murdoch! 'Cos I killed him! I killed Scott!

It's all your damn fault ol' man! Now I'm gonna kill ya like I should have done when I first put my eyes on ya! With my bare hands, I'm gonna kill ya…dead! Everyone ya touch ya destroy! Everyone! Wives! Sons! Teresa! Maria! Jelly! All for a lousy piece of land, you're thirty pieces of silver! Damn ya ta hell!" Johnny stalked his quarry, blue eyes intense with wrath.

"JOHNNY! NO!" protested Murdoch as he took a step backwards, away from his desk, tripping over the footstool by his reading chair. He threw his arms in front of his face to protect himself from the infuriated, blind rage of Johnny's hard coiled fists that pummeled his body. Johnny struck him over and over, grunting and groaning as his blows found the fleshy targets they were seeking.

In the recesses of his foggy brain Murdoch heard another shrill primitive cry as he gave over to the torture that was inflicted upon his weary body. He didn't know if the sound came from his throat or Johnny's. Before he completely crumpled and lost consciousness, he moaned, "Why son?"

"I ain't your son!" Johnny flung his father to the floor, stomped out of the great room, leaving behind his hopes and dreams, tossed to the wayside like an empty bottle of tequila. Each and every one vanished the moment he pulled the trigger taking the life of his brother, who had been Johnny's lifeline to his new found peace and tranquility, all gone in a single flashing second as the bullet pierced his brother's heart. All bets were off, he no longer belonged to Lancer and Lancer would never belong to him. He wanted no part of this place...this land of hurt and violence any longer.

He hoped his father roasted in hell, his own private hell, with no son by his side, riding astride their horses high above the hillside overlooking Murdoch's valley kingdom. Let Lancer go to the dogs Johnny thought as he bent to retrieve his gunbelt and gun, strapping it back on, not even the familiar weight offered him any solace. He slammed the front door with a vibrating thump that echoed off the walls and down the silent hallway, unheard by the deadly still patriarch, lying like a broken, battered rag doll in a heap by the French doors.

He rode Barranca as if the devil's hounds were chasing after them, snarling, nipping at their heels. A full-blown hurricane gale whisked Johnny away through the arch, like dust in the wind. Johnny Lancer was gone forever. Johnny Madrid was back and mad as hell.

~Fin~

Sun Dancer

Note: (Ghost) Riders in the Sky tells a folk tale of a cowboy who has a vision of red-eyed, steel-hoofed cattle thundering across the sky, being chased by the spirits of damned cowboys. One warns him that if he does not change his ways, he will be doomed to join them, forever "trying to catch the Devil's herd across these endless skies". Stan Jones stated he had been told the story when he was twelve-years old by an old Native American who resided north-east of the Douglas, Arizona border town, a few miles behind D Hill, north of Agua Prieta, Sonora. The Native Americans, possibly Apache, who lived within Cochise County, believed that when souls vacate their physical bodies, they reside as spirits in the sky, resembling ghost riders. He related this story to Wayne Hester, a boyhood friend (later owner of the Douglas Cable Company). As both boys were looking at the clouds, Stan shared what the old Native American had told him, looking in amazement as the cloudy shapes were identified as the "ghost riders" that years later, would be transposed into lyrics. The melody is based on the song "When Johnny Comes Marching Home".

It sets the mood for both the month of spooky October and for a sequence of short stories in this series.


End file.
